Harry Potter and the Indecisive Title
by Randomwolf1
Summary: Harry Potter turns inexplicably evil, what fun! AU and random OOCness. I probably won't update often. Read and Review please. criticism welcome encouraged in fact but i'm blathering on, just read it please. rated for paranoia.
1. Strawberry Fields

**Harry Potter and the Indecisive Title**

_Italic: Text (letters or books, etc., thoughts, or Riddle's Diary_

"Normal with quotes: Dialogue"

Normal without quotes: Harry writing in Riddle's Diary; speaker tags; narration

**Bold: emphasis**

Underline: Parseltongue

In the aftermath of Sirius' death, Harry Potter became depressed. I mean very depressed, so depressed he...well let's face it, he became an emo.

"Hey! I did not" says Harry.

"Shut up Harry, get out of my narration" replies the extremely talented writer, who is also the narrator. The writer so talented and so...

_"...Vain_?" supplies an increasingly annoying Harry. Temporarily ignoring the regular Harry, who is too busy being ignored to not not be needed. Also there weren't not lots of double negatives. Or were there? Maybe not.

"Topic!" shouted Harry.

Er, right. Anyway, Harry became depressed. He was sitting in his bedroom at number 4 Privet Drive, contemplating suicide, when an owl flew in through the open window. It dropped two letters. The first was from his dealer telling him that his monthly supply of pot was delayed indefinitely. No fix for emo boy. The second letter was from Gringotts Bank:

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Please find enclosed the last will and testament of _

_Sirius A. Black._

_(signed) Gringott—owner and founder of Gringott's bank._

_To Mr. Harry James Potter,_

_I, Sirius A. Black, being of sound mind, body, etc. (except that I'm dead) hereby give you all my property excluding Buckbeak whom I have already given to Hagrid. You now have 999999999999999999999999999999999999999999 Galleons added to your account as well as number 12 Grimauld Place and everything inside it. This is a ridiculous sum of money however if it stops you from becoming an emo than you can have it._

_Sincerely, Sirius A. Black_

_(The 'A' stands for 'bullsh*t')_

Solely to disrupt continuity and annoy the author, Harry pulled out Riddle's Diary (which was still Riddle's Diary. Even I, the narrator, have no explanation except its both AU and OOC and probably some other things that I, the Narrator, in my *cough*infinite wisdom*cough*, know nothing about.). He started to write:

Had a crappy day.

_Was it that bad?_

Yes it was. I'm becoming a freaking emo.

_Don't become an emo. Please._

Yeah, okay. What do I do then?

_Hey, you know that Dumbledore is a manipulative lying prick._

Yes...and?

_You don't really want to fight for him do you?_

No, not really.

_Oh, I know! Join Voldemort._

Okay. Heil Voldemort!

_First of all, I was joking, and never, ever, say that ever again._

Sorry. Where the hell did that come from??

_I dunno, ask the narrator.__ Have you been watching those World War II documentaries on the History channel again?_

To which the narrator replies: what happened to the fourth wall? And please Harry, don't **EVER** say that again.

Anyway, how does one go about finding Voldemort to join him anyway?

_Just write him a letter. You have a smart __owl; she should be able to figure it out._

Okay then.

Harry closed the Diary, took out his quill and began to write. Then he remembered that he didn't have any ink. Wondering why the hell they didn't use ballpoint pens in the Wizarding World, he pulled out a pen he had stolen from Dudley's room and started to write:

_Voldemort,_

_It has come to my attention that__ I want to join you. I need to get out of here and Dumbledore is a lying manipulative bastard. What do I do? Can you help?_

_Harry_

Harry rolled up the letter and gave it to Hedwig to take to Voldemort. About half an hour later Hedwig returned with a letter that read:

_Harry,_

_I will help you. this letter is a portkey to Knockturn Alley. Go to the bookstore and buy __**Secrets of the Dark Arts, The Dark Arts, Beginner's Guide to the Dark Arts,**__ and__** Useful Dark Spells**__. Then go to Dowan's shop at 124 Knockturn Alley and wait for me outside. Look through the books while you wait if you like. I look forward to it._

_Voldemort_

Harry felt the familiar jerk that meant the portkey was working and felt himself land outside the bookstore in Knockturn Alley. He went inside and looked around. He found all the books fairly easily and noticed how much lighter they were than he had expected. He bought the books, getting weird looks from the cashier, and went outside. He had to walk up and down the street three times before he found Dowan's shop.

He sat on the almost too conveniently placed bench and had a look at _The Dark Arts._ It read much like a textbook except it was a lot easier to follow, easier to read, and had detailed summaries, explanations, instructions, and illustrative diagrams. It was designed for one to be able to read and understand without a teacher or someone to answer questions. He had just finished reading the introductory chapter when Voldemort tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hello Harry. Glad you could make it." Voldemort smiled. It was a twisted smile, sort of mocking, but strangely comforting, Voldemort meant no harm.

"Hello. I uh... you know why I'm here right?"

"Yes I do. I trust you found all the books?"

Harry nodded. "What now? I have the books."

"Come into the shop, we need to buy a few things. Have a look around while you're here. I can answer any questions you have." This was not the same Voldemort that had tried to kill Harry several times or the Voldemort that Dumbledore kept warning everyone about. Harry looked around and saw several strange items. Borgin and Burke's was a dump compared to this place. Harry had never seen so many Dark artifacts in one place before. One item that caught his eye was a black dog collar-type choker necklace with sharp spikes sticking out of the sides in a glass case.

"What is that?" he asked Voldemort, gesturing at the case.

"It's for werewolves" replied Voldemort, "it allows them to transform at will as well as keep their minds when they do. It is the only one in existence, or all werewolves would have one.

"Why, are they hard to make?"

"No it's quite easy actually, but it has two side effects. The first is that once put on, it will never come off until the wearer dies, and the second is that if it is worn by someone who is not a werewolf, they will instantly become one."

"Wow."

Sensing Harry's interest, Voldemort summoned the shopkeeper, Dowan.

"How much is this?" asked Voldemort.

"F...for you, Master, it is f...free of c...charge." replied the shopkeeper, excited and terrified at the prospect of the Dark Lord himself being in his shop at all.

"There you go Harry. Try it on" said Voldemort, handing the necklace to Harry. "And let me know if you see something else you like." Voldemort retreated into a back room to speak with the shopkeeper, even though they and Harry were the only ones in the shop, or the Alley for that matter.

Harry went to the bathroom and put on the necklace in the mirror. He instantly felt a surge of energy rush through him and watched himself turn into a grey wolf in the mirror. He changed back to normal and saw that his eyes, usually the deepest green, were dark red. He walked out of the bathroom and saw a pair of bracelets that matched the necklace. He grabbed them (his first real evil act) and put them on. He thought that completed the look in a way. Looking around, he saw a book titled _Easy Animagus_ and grabbed it as well; unaware that Voldemort was watching him through the wall. Ten minutes later, Voldemort and the shopkeeper came out of the back room.

"Time to go Harry." said Voldemort and they left the shop. Once they were outside and out of earshot, Voldemort turned to Harry.

"Well done back there. I was a bit disappointed that you didn't take more but it's a start. Now, on to the matter of the Trace, you need to get rid of it. Close your eyes and focus on yourself, see your body, your clothes, your wand. Now concentrate, see your magical aura and the Trace itself, surrounding it, restricting it. Now picture the Trace disappearing, and your aura getting bigger, it may change colour."

Harry did just that and saw his aura change colour; at first it was a small dark speck in a field of white but the speck grew until it swallowed all the light. If another person was there to see it would look like Harry was being encased in a vast cocoon of darkness. He felt oddly light, as if a vast weight had been lifted.

"Now then, we have to disable your Blocks. Lets see." Voldemort pulled out a list that read:

_Harry James Potter_

_Abilities:_

_Potions:98% Blocked_

_Charms:30% Blocked_

_Werewolf:10% Blocked_

_Dark Arts:110% Blocked_

_Metamorphmagus:99% Blocked_

Voldemort tapped Harry with his wand and muttered something. The Blocks vanished and the list became a blank piece of paper.

"What's a block?" Harry asked.

"I quite honestly don't know" Voldemort replied. "Now, its time to apparate back."

Voldemort gripped Harry's arm and they vanished in a swirl of darkness.

They rematerialized in a graveyard; Harry looked around and noticed that it was not the same graveyard they had gone to in his fourth year.

"Where are we?" asked Harry.

"We're at the Death Eaters' camp."

"I have a few questions. First of all, what about the prophesy?"

"Actually there were two prophesies. Either of which could occur. Dumbledore didn't know, but the other one said that the Chosen One (you, m'boy) would eventually join me. I have a copy here"

Voldemort rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a small orb. Harry and Voldemort stared at it but nothing happened.

"Dammit, must be broken again"

Voldemort banged it against a gravestone and it began to play a message.

"You have...one...new message. Message play. In the dark of night, the Wolf will join the Snake. The Chosen One will join the Dark lord and cast a shadow upon the land. When the Wolf meets the Snake. Message end. You have…no…new messages."

"There you have it; the wolf will join the snake"

"Not very poetic, oddly specific though. It makes sense sort of. I'm the wolf and you're the snake" said Harry.

"Exactly. If you cast a patronus now you'll find its changed form; anyway, on to more important matters. "Now I need to cast a Glamour on you so you won't be recognized"

"Okay, you had me at 'cast'. What's a 'Glamour'?"

"I don't know exactly. It's a new trend in fanfiction that wasn't in any of the books. I guess the author used it 'cause he thinks he's cool or leet or something."

Oi! What happened to the friggin' fourth friggin' wall? I am the great and powerful **Oz**…I mean **Narrator**! **Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain**…uh…I mean **with the laptop**! Oh whatever. I did not plagiarize from the Wizard of Oz, and I don't have the script right here."

5


	2. Nothing Is Real

(Author's Note: I didn't end that chapter very well, don't worry, it'll make sense…or not. Muahahahahahahahaha…ahem.)

**Harry Potter and the Indecisive Title**

**Chapter II**

Simply because the Narrator apparently does not believe in continuity, this chapter begins in an unusual way: this sentence. Harry Potter was sitting alone in the tent that Voldemort had designated for his personal use, listening to the national anthem of the USSR for no apparent reason.

_Long Live out Soviet Motherland_

_Built by the People's Mighty Hand_

_Long Live the People_

_United and Free…_

Suddenly, Voldemort burst in and blasted the CD player.

"What the bloody hell…Harry, are you…are you a communist?" he stuttered.

"Well, the Dursleys were fascists, and the one thing fascists hate is communists so…consider it my small act of rebellion" replied Harry.

"…O…kay…well, I should show you around."

Harry and Voldemort exited the tent and entered a small—(no, make that a medium; black, double sugar…no wait, Double-Double with a 24 pack of assorted Timbits please)—building.

"This is where we do all of our torture. Here at VoldieTek, we use only the best almost-lethal and non-lethal methods of torture. Here you see the DripTek 5000, victims are strapped to the table here, and then this bucket is suspended over them. The bucket has a tiny hole in it, and when it's filled with water, the water will drip on the victim; it will drip and drip until they can't take it anymore. And to your right are our prisons, where prisoners receive three large, nutritious, diarrhea inducing meals a day and plenty of drink. However they only get **one bathroom break a day**!" said Voldemort, "This concludes the grand tour of the Death Eater's camp, conveniently located in beautiful rural Murmansk, USSR (which still exists in this Alternate Universe)."

"Short tour. Hey, uh, weren't you doing something you were doing before the last chapter cut? Something about a 'glamour'?" asked Harry

"Oh yeah, that or something about an övërüsë öf ümläüts" replied Voldemort.

Voldemort tapped Harry with his wand and muttered _disguise_ which is apparently a spell even though it's not a fake Latin word. Either way, the narrator doesn't care. Harry's face changed and in a few moments he looked…exactly like Voldemort had when he was Harry's age. Voldemort shoved a piece of paper under Harry's nose and Harry read it, having first unstuck it from his nose. It was a contract, stating that Harry was officially Voldemort's apprentice and surrogate son. Harry longed to sign it, anxious to learn the Dark Lord's skills with a desire for power that was completely nonexistent in the books, however, he didn't have a pen…

(Author's Note: Will Harry ever find a pen? Did anything actually happen in this chapter? Is Michael Jackson secretly a Catholic priest? Find out next time.)


	3. And Nothing to Get Hung About

In the last thrilling (…er, mediocre…let's go with thrilling) adventure (…installment? meh, whatever you want to call it), Harry was about to sign a legally binding document stating that he is to be Voldemort's heir and apprentice. The only thoughts that were running through his head were '_man, this is cool'_; '_this is so out of character'_; _this is such a Star Wars moment it isn't even funny_; and _I hate the narrator…hmm, I wonder if I can kill him_. Hold on a second…what was that last one??? Anyway, on to the story:

"Hang on, I have a pen" said Voldemort, handing a pen to Harry.

"Thanks," replied Harry, signing his name and noticing another blank, "What's this for?"

"Well, Harry" said Voldemort, "You now have two choices. You can keep your old identity and go to Hogwarts, remain in Gryffindor, and act as if nothing happened; or you can fake your death and use this new face with a cover story and a cool accent."

"I think I'll go with the second one"

"Excellent, now we need to think of a name and cover story."

"I think I pretty much have a cover story worked out, I just need a name"

"Um, 'kay, uh, how about, uh, Damien?"

"No, too stereotypical"

"Oh come on, I liked that one"

"So did I but lets think of something else"

"All right then, Igor?"

"Have you _ever_ seen _any_ Muggle horror film?"

"Um, I grew up in the Great Depression and World War II; there wasn't a lot of selection. 'Kay, what else is there…um…Ivan? Vlad? Dmitri? Ruffles the Happy Flappy Talking Pony from the Happy Happy Flappy Happy Land of Sweets and Light Pastry?"

"What was that last one?" Harry asked, retching.

"Er, ever heard of the infamous writer of Wizarding children's books, Beatrix Bloxam? That was one of her titles. Generations of children puked themselves half to death by reading the first paragraph alone"

"You know, on second thought, I'll just stick to Damien, I'm sure the narrator will change it if the readers really don't like it. I mean really though, the name has a really bad connotation. I mean _of course_ if a character is going to be named Damien, he _has_ to be evil. Do you know the hell that Muggle children probably go through if they grow up with that name? It's really no wonder that the bloody teen suicide rate is so high. Well, I know that the narrator personally likes the name but still, the negative…"

"…Okay, back on topic if you will. So now you're known as Damien Riddle, although the narrator will still call you Harry in dialogue although he may randomly change between the two at his (or the reader's, depending on preference) discretion."

"Now we need a cover story. Let's see, I live in Russia and recently transferred to Hogwarts from Durmstrang. As with all Durmstrang's exchanges, I am the equivalent of a Slytherin. I am in fifth year and my English is good, though I have a heavy accent. How's that?"

"Good," said Voldemort, "good. I think that'll do. I'm transferring all the needed memories of your 'past' to your head, so you can answer questions; and also putting in an accent that will sound convincing, but not get annoying if you need to speak quickly or if pronunciation is important for a spell."

"Okay, sounds like we're all set" said Harry.

"Well, I need to arrange an assassination"

"What?"

"I need to make it seem like you're dead. Maybe you can help me."

"Well, how about we knock someone off, a Muggle perhaps, no-one will ever miss them, transfigure the body to look like me, and then do something I've always wanted to do and the narrator has always sort of wanted to write: KILL THE DURSLEYS. We could make it look like you came in and killed us all in our sleep. The _Daily Prophet_ will believe it, and so will that [_censored_] Fudge. Wait, I have an idea, let's knock off that horrible Umbridge woman, I read the book, so I know she will be trouble."

"Actually, being in Slytherin, and since Damien Riddle is a pureblood, she'll probably leave you alone. Now, instead of Defence Against the Dark Arts, which we all know Professor Umbridge doesn't teach at all, you will go to the Chamber of Secrets whenever possible to learn the real stuff, the Dark Arts themselves. Really it's a lot easier, instead of incantations, you just focus your energy on what you want, and it happens (within reason, don't over-exert yourself). The only reason we go around shouting incantations at all is to keep up appearances, I mean if they knew we had such extensive control over our magic, they'd probably pull out a nuclear weapon on us, and trust me, nobody wants that. Muggle wars never really affected, or much bothered, us until they invented that thing."

"Really, So what now?"

"Now you sign the contract" said Voldemort.

"Of course" said Harry, signing the contract with his new name.

"Well, there you go; you are now officially apprenticed to the Dark Lord Voldemort"

Harry was tired and decided to go to bed. Just as he was drifting off to sleep, a random generic owl flew through the open tent-flap. It carried a letter, like most random owls in the Harry Potter universe do.

_Dear Harry,_

_Congrats on finally joining Voldemort, it's about effing time._

_So, apparently you're Voldemort's apprentice now,_

_Aren't you the lucky little bastard?_

_Maybe I was wrong about you_

_We'll have to see._

_I'm canceling your marijuana supply, bad guys don't smoke pot._

_Cheers, Snape_


	4. Strawberry Fields Forever

Harry Potter stood rooted to the spot holding Snape's letter, his hands shaking uncontrollably.

"If I'd known that evil villains didn't smoke pot, there might not be a story right now… because I would have never joined Voldemort," said Harry.

"Hello. I'm right here, you don't need to refer to me in the third person. Oh, and by the way, saying 'evil villains' is a bit redundant, also, it's against my religion," snapped Voldemort.

"Against your religion? What are you anyway, some kind of Satanist or what?"

"Take that back!"

"What?"

"Don't you know, no self-respecting villain is a Satanist. It's against the Evil-Doers' Convention of 73"

"You mean 1973?"

"No, just 73. Hey, don't you have a name to pick?"

"I thought I already picked one in the previous chapter…"

"Well, you still need to formalize it."

"Well, I can't go with Ivan, as soon as the papers hear I joined you they'll start calling me 'the next Ivan the Terrible' or some such bullcrap. So, it's impossible to avoid stereotyping names, I guess I'll just go with Ivan as my 'real' name and I'll stick with Damien as the name other Slytherins call me, or at least the ones I can trust."

"Okay, sign here, here, and here, new initials here, blood sample here, your home phone number here, your age in binary here, your cake preferences here, and the stupid anti-bot security code goes here," said Voldemort, pointing to several random parts of the contract.

"Hey, wasn't I tired and decided to go to bed? Yeah, I think I was… Hey, do you ever notice that continuity apparently means nothing to the narrator?" asked Harry.

Voldemort was, himself, wondering the same thing. However, instead of discussing the matter properly, he simply told Harry to go to bed. To which Harry replied with an angry 'so get the [censored] out of my tent then'. Which then resulted in a stream of colourful dialogue from Voldemort that has been censored in the interests of good tastes, even though this is an M-rated comedy fanfiction and good taste means nothing here.

The next day, Voldemort woke up uncharacteristically late, he had slept until noon, Harry was waiting in a random tent with what looked like a perfume sprayer, a water bottle, his Dark Magic textbooks, and several photographs of Lenin.

"Harry, what are you doing?" asked Voldemort sleepily.

"I want to show you this stuff."

"What's this stuff then?"

"Well, this here is bottled Communism, or 'Lenin in a Bottle'" said Harry, holding up the water bottle "And this is Eau de Stalin. I also got Laika: the fragrance, and Eau de Lenin. I also found a working model of Chernobyl power plant in a magically sealed container but it kept exploding so I threw it away,"

"Where did you get all this crap? I mean 'Laika: the fragrance'? Why do you want to smell like a dead dog that orbited the planet for a few days? And WHY are you pasting Lenin's picture over mine at the front of your textbooks?"

"I got it all at Red Square in Moscow, and I think you're too vain so I'm covering up your picture in the textbooks, so there! The narrator told me not to but I did it anyway"

Exactly, I tell you not to do something and you do it anyway. You know what? If you don't listen to me from now on, I'll turn this story into a cheesy romance fic with really nasty sex scenes.

"You wouldn't!" said Harry, horrified.

Yes I would. I wouldn't try anything if I were you.

"But… the only characters right now are me and him…" said Harry, pointing at Voldemort "And that's just wrong!"

You know, this is the 21st century, and gay relationships are growing ever more common, a fanfic like that wouldn't be considered wrong anymore.

"It's not that, it's the fact that he's about a thousand years older than me"

That's not true. He's only maybe a hundred years older than you at the most. Okay, I'll let you off this time, but just remember, if you ever step out of line… I am the one with the computer after all.

"All right, all right. I'll behave"

W00t, I am 1337! Although, I'm going to stop using 1337 and use just plain leet in normal text. From now on 'Leet' means awesome and it's a real word. I will also occasionally use world like 'noob', 'epic', 'fail', 'epic fail', and 'cake', the last one meaning 'lie'. And by the way, the VoldieTek Personnel (and Uranium) Enrichment Centre reminds you that killing the narrator will result in a 'fail' in all your school courses, followed by death. Thank you, and have a nice Portal-ripping-off day! Remember: We do what we must, because we have to. And: We do what we want, because we can. Both are oxymorons (not really) and the mottos of VoldieTek.

(Author's Note: sorry about the long wait for this chapter)

(Another Note: Please stay tuned for the next not-so-exciting adventure: in which Harry, alias Ivan alias Damien finally goes to Hogwarts, maybe. Also watch out for the introduction of a Mary Sue, namely Mary Sue. XD)


	5. Living Is Easy With Eyes Closed

(**Author's Note**: I am not actually going to turn this into a slash fic, that was a joke. If you want, you can completely disregard the previous chapter, in fact, you can ignore any chapter and even the whole fanfiction if some parts offend you. It's meant to be funny. Please don't take it too seriously. I mean really, it's a fanfiction, seriously now.)

Voldemort woke Harry up early the next day. "Wake up. We need to kill some Muggles"

"You're a racist bastard, you know that?" replied Harry sleepily.

"Yeah, well… actually I have no rationalization for that"

"So basically… you're a racist bastard?"

"Um…"

"You racist bastard!"

"MOVING ON. We need to kill a Muggle so we can fake your death so you can go to Hogwarts in two days."

"Okay, but you're still a racist bastard"

"STFU!"

"Okay then, where are we going?"

"Somewhere random, I don't know"

"Wow, I remember when my life actually seemed like a life, not a string of random, but funny, events that could be in someone's crappy fanfiction, especially the narrator, and the fact that we're constantly acknowledging our status as fictional characters," sighed Harry.

"That was a long sentence"

"Yeah"

"That was a short sentence"

"Can we go now?"

"Fine, let's go"

Voldemort grabbed Harry and they apparated to a random town.

"Hey Voldemort, if redundancy is against your religion, what else is?" asked Harry.

"Well, besides redundancy, the only things that are against my religion are not being a racist bastard, and voting anything other than Conservative in Canadian politics."

"Wow, that's oddly specific and political. You wouldn't vote for the Liberals, or the Green Party, or even the Marijuana Party?"

"Well, I sure as sh*t won't vote for the Bloc Quebecois. I voted for the Hippopotamus Party once"

"Hmm, I'd probably vote Liberal, Green, or Marijuana Party"

"Okay, moving on. The narrator wants to get this scene over with"

Harry and Voldemort snuck inside a random house, killed someone, transfigured the body to look like Harry, went to Privet Drive, killed the Dursleys, planted the body and apparated back to camp, blowing through it in the time it takes you to read this single, run-on, paragraph sized sentence. When they got back, Voldemort looked Harry up and down and told him that he couldn't go to school looking like an emo…or goth…or whatever Harry looks like, I've given up trying to figure it out.

"Now, since the Narrator, like so many fanfiction authors, has decided to make me a lot nicer than I would ever be in the books, I'll write to you every once in a while. Also, your old enemies like Malfoy and Snape will somehow automatically know who you are and be nice to you for some reason, Ron, Hermione, and the others are blissfully ignorant of your situation and really don't know you. It would be unwise to tell them so though, okay?" Said Voldemort, on the day Harry was to go to Hogwarts.

"Sure, thanks, bye" said Harry, who was anxious to board the train he was spontaneously standing next to. Harry stepped onto the train and got a compartment all to himself. He was reading a newspaper, bored, when the compartment door opened and a girl walked in.

"Hi, I'm sorry, everywhere else is full, can I sit here?" she said, "I'm Mary by the way, Mary Sue"

"Здравствуйте! I'm Ivan, sure you can sit here" said Harry.

"You're hot, please tell me you're in Slytherin" said Mary Sue.

"Yes I am in Slytherin actually. How did you know?" asked Harry.

"I dunno, I like Russians though, so I like you. Want a joint?"

"I can't, bad guys don't smoke pot"

"What!?"

"…I mean…Slytherins don't smoke pot"

"Oh"

"So Mary Sue, where are you from?"

"Georgia"

"No way, I used to go to school there!"

"Really? Have you ever been to Atlanta?"

"No, sorry. Have you ever been to [insert city name here*]?"

"No"

"Oh, okay"

As the train was speeding through a tunnel, Time seemed to stop, in fact, for everyone except Harry it did stop. Harry looked up with a wide smile plastered to his face, as if to say 'I told you so'. He addressed the narrator in a manner rather rude for addressing an omnipotent and omnipresent superbeing who knows all.

"Ha ha ha"

What are you so happy about?

"I just met a girl, who likes me. And also, you know what this means, right?"

What are you talking about?

"Well, since there is now another character, who is female, this means your threat from last chapter is NULL AND VOID!!!"

You do realize that I still have the power to rewrite it. I'm just not going to because I'm too lazy and I don't really like slashfics anyway. You STILL have to do what I say. Or else.

"All right, all right, calm down already"

In an instant, time started again but was a bit laggy for a few minutes until the connection could be re-established with the network. Harry and Mary Sue talked for a while more as the train continued it's agonizingly slow (to the reader anyway, drag this out for five chapters, why don't I) progression towards Hogwarts.

(**Author's Note**: My map is so crappy it doesn't list any cities in Georgia (the country))

(**Another Note**: Yes, I know, Mary Sue isn't all that bright, kind of like the Anti-Hermione. Let me know if she seemed stereotypical enough or if I need to work on that a bit. [Can you say Cliché?])


	6. Misunderstanding All You See

(**Author's Note**: Sorry I haven't updated for so long. You know how it is, school and whatnot. Also my computer died so I had to wait until I could get a new one. Anyway, enjoy the story.)

Harry and Mary Sue were sitting in a compartment in the middle of the train... this has already been established, can we move on now? Anyway... The train was moving towards Hogwarts very slowly, almost as if it was using Dial-up or something. Or a Mac... or even worse... Vista! Back on topic now, Harry was contemplating something or other when Mary Sue spoke up.

"Ivan,"

"Yes?" replied Harry.

"I like you"

"OK, starting to creep me out. You barely know me. Why is it you like me?"

"You're Russian"

"OK.... That's an odd fetish. Are you some kind of russophile or something?"

"Um..............."

As Mary Sue was trying to answer, a letter was flown into the compartment by a generic owl. It landed in Harry's lap and he tried to read it, but Mary Sue grabbed it out of his hands before he could finish, and this is what she read:

_Dear Ivan,_

_It's going to be a boring year without you here. Did I tell you about Aleksandr and Anna? I'll have to tell you later. Write when you get settled in. _

_--Vladimir_

And this is what the letter actually said:

_Harry,_

_Meet me in the Entrance Hall first thing._

_--Snape_

Harry snatched the letter back and read it. He decided it wasn't worth worrying about and resolved to have a nap, or at least get so stoned he didn't care. He turned to face Mary Sue.

"Can I still have that joint?" he asked.

"No, Slytherins don't smoke pot, remember?"

"Dammit,"

(**Author's Note**: I found a few mistakes in previous chapters, it's the Rhinoceros Party, not the Hippopotamus Party, and I misspelled 'our' in chapter two, near the top of the page. I know this is a really short chapter, I just don't have any ideas at the moment.)


End file.
